Authors: Glenice Crossland
‘Happy Christmas.’ Brian grinned.
‘And the same to you, Brian.’ Doug shook Brian’s hand warmly.
‘Happy Christmas, Pam.’ Jacqueline hugged her friend to her and planted a kiss on her cheek.
Pam blinked away the tears that sprang to her eyes. No matter what happened, nobody would spoil their friendship. It was the kind which would survive anything, though she had a feeling it was
about to come up against some strong competition, in the forms of Brian and Doug Downing.
Una began to sing ‘Silent Night’ and the dancing couples swayed together, as the spirit of Christmas filled the room. Doug Downing kissed Jacqueline for the first time, a kiss which
lasted through two whole verses of the carol, and then he whispered, ‘I love you, Jacqueline Holmes.’
‘I know,’ Jacqueline murmured. ‘And I love you too.’
Avril caught a glimpse of her friend across the smoke-hazed room and smiled. Jacqueline’s hurt was certainly healed. She snuggled closer to Alan. It was going to be an absolutely fabulous
Christmas.
It had been a hectic Christmas Day, with Grandma Holmes revelling in being surrounded by sons, daughters and grandchildren, the two youngest – Harry’s son Barry and
Margaret’s Anthony – being at the boisterous stage, when to sit still for more than five minutes proved an impossibility. Balloons, crackers and chocolates were soon disposed of, and
organised games swiftly turned into wrestling matches with fathers and uncles joining in. Only when the large fairy-lit tree was in danger of being overturned did Mary put a stop to the mayhem.
Gladys had felt rather sad at one point to think their nephew had not even bothered to send a card this year. Oh, well – this was her family now.
Nevertheless, everyone had a wonderful time and it was early next morning when the guests began to disperse. Despite the festivities, though, Jacqueline couldn’t help wondering if
something was worrying her father. Since she had arrived home he had seemed to be unusually preoccupied, though making a heroic effort to hide the fact, using Tittle Harry as an excuse.
‘I’m afraid it’s time the poor old thing was put out of his misery,’ he said when Jacqueline questioned him as to what was on his mind. It was true that Tittle Harry was
only just managing to soldier on, crippled according to the vet by rheumatism. The poor old dog had all on now to drag his tired old body across the room, and though he usually completed the
shuffle to where Jacqueline happened to be sitting, it was proving more and more of an effort before he finally collapsed with his head on her feet, and a sad tired expression on his face. Once or
twice, too, Mary had found a pool when he had been unable to reach the door in time to be let out. This distressed the old dog and they all knew it would be kinder to let Tittle Harry go. Yet
Jacqueline thought there was something more on her father’s mind, and wondered why nobody else seemed to notice.
Una had also been rather quiet, anticipating the opening of the pantomime on the following day. After rehearsing a part in the chorus for many weeks she had suddenly been promoted to a more
prominent role, and had spent Christmas Day suffering from last minute nerves. No one else doubted her ability, and she knew she was fortunate not only to have landed the part, but to have been
given leave of absence by her employers. Though Una planned to attend an audition soon in Scarborough for one of the summer shows, she realised how lucky she was to have her receptionist’s
job kept open for her should she need to return to it.
On Boxing Day the calm and beauty of Moorland House was a soothing balm to Mary’s nerves, and Jacqueline almost ran from the car in her eagerness, feeling somewhat guilty
at feeling more at home here than she did at the shop.
Avril couldn’t decide which was the more beautiful, the exterior view of the house surrounded by evergreens, and slightly shrouded by a storm-laden wintry sky, or the warm welcoming
interior, heavily garlanded with holly and ivy from the garden.
Oh, what a house! She had sometimes wished Jacqueline would stop harping on about the place, but now she understood completely. It was not only the house, but the atmosphere within it which
seemed to cushion one in a cloak of welcome. Not for the first time she felt a pang of envy at the thought of her friend’s good fortune at being surrounded by such a large and loving family.
Then she reminded herself that she too was lucky, to be here sharing their hospitality. She glanced to where Alan was arranging chairs round the large, exquisitely dressed table. He caught and held
her glance for rather longer than necessary, sending a blush rising embarrassingly to her face. She hoped she hadn’t encouraged him, she couldn’t remember doing so, but when he had
suddenly kissed her outside the dance hall it had seemed natural and right, and the sensation he had caused in her body had been reciprocated; she had sensed his arousal and drawn away. He was a
year her junior, and it wouldn’t be fair to take advantage, not after all the hospitality the family had shown her.
She told herself it would be a casual flirtation, nothing more than a fleeting holiday friendship to be forgotten on her return to London, and what could be the harm in that? But she knew it
couldn’t be dismissed so easily, and she would not wish it to be. Besides, he didn’t seem young. He had a maturity about him, a sense of responsibility, despite his air of
merriment.
‘A penny for your thoughts, dear.’ Grandad Roberts caught her eye. She blushed, and he smiled, knowing without her answering in which direction the wind was blowing. He had noticed
yesterday that when Alan had held a twig of mistletoe over each of the ladies in turn, joking that this was the best part of Christmas, it was this young friend of Jacqueline’s who had
received the longest kiss. He sighed. He had always been a romantic at heart, and he had done well for himself in that respect, Gladys being just as warm and affectionate as himself. Come to think
of it he had been lucky in other ways too. A career he loved, though sometimes he wondered if he should consider retirement, make way for a younger doctor. He supposed it would have to happen some
time in the near future, possibly within the next year, what with his darned blood pressure, and the angina. If Gladys knew about that, he would be pensioned off here and now, and he couldn’t
hide the symptoms from her for ever.
Oh, yes, Rowland was a fortunate man. Who would have dreamed he would be surrounded with family like this? Well, not actual family, but as good as. He blessed the day he had offered Mary
O’Connor a home; these were his family all right. He frowned. Far more so than actual blood relatives. How long was it now since Ruth and Richard had been in touch? Rowland tried to remember
and was shocked when he realised the number of years that had passed since their last visit.
It had been different when his nephew had been younger; the boy had almost lived here then. Rowland had paid for his education, bought him his first car and given him numerous other expensive
gifts. Now, when a visit from the family would have so delighted Gladys, they were always too busy. He sighed, then cheered up again as he looked towards his wife and Jacqueline admiring a table
decoration, or something or other, the girl’s dark curls falling over her face. Such an alive, animated face it was, so like her father in looks, yet with the same vibrant energy Mary had
possessed when she first arrived at Moorland House, despite the TB glands. Oh, yes, he was a fortunate man. Perhaps, he had not been blessed with a family of his own, but this family sitting down
at the table today meant more to him than his blood relatives ever could.
‘Are you coming to the table or are you going to carry on musing until the soup’s gone cold?’ Gladys broke into his thoughts.
In the afternoon Jacqueline decided to take Avril for a walk along the lane and down by the reservoir, and no one was surprised when Alan decided to tag along, leaving the house quiet except for
the gentle snores of Jack and the doctor. Nor was it any surprise to Alan and Avril when Jacqueline suggested calling in at the Downings’, knowing the elderly couple were always delighted to
receive visitors. On this occasion, however, it was Douglas who welcomed them with the greatest enthusiasm, keen to show them the many improvements he had made to the farm.
The yard was uncluttered and clean and one of the outbuildings had been turned into a huge greenhouse with a sign on the door inviting walkers and other passers-by to go in and look round. As
Doug opened the door the scent of hyacinths greeted them, their heady perfume causing Avril to sneeze. On long wooden tables seed boxes of pansies and pots of crocus and daffodil bulbs were spread
in rows, each one labelled with a name and a colour. Hanging from the ceiling artistic arrangements of holly and greenery tied with red ribbons added a festive air.
‘You should have seen it a month ago,’ Doug said. ‘The place looked a picture. I didn’t know if I was doing the right thing venturing into the gardening side, but as you
can see we’ve nearly been cleared out for Christmas.’
Jacqueline wanted to hug Doug. She had had no idea he had turned his talents in this direction, but it shouldn’t really have surprised her. After all, he had always taken a great interest
in the garden at Moorland House.
‘Come on,’ he said, ‘I’ll show you the trees.’ He laughed. ‘What’s left of them that is.’
They walked out and round the corner in the direction of the five acre field, where Mr Downing had opened the gate for the cattle to amble through, heavy and ready for milking. At the top of the
second field rows of fir trees stood to attention, graded in size, the little ones at the front. The back row and half the next were missing.
‘It’s unbelievable how many I’ve sold.’ Doug grinned. ‘And the man from the market’s already placed an order for next year.’
‘I can’t believe it.’ Jacqueline gazed around her. ‘It all looks so organised.’
Doug began to laugh. ‘Go on, say what you’re thinking, that it all used to be such a mess. I know, and I can’t say my dad’s quite used to the idea, but I think he’s
gradually coming round to my way of thinking. As I told him, there’s no fortune to be made in just working the fields any more, not enough to keep two men in wages, any road.’
‘But Cyril wants to carry on farming,’ Jacqueline pointed out.
‘Aye, but he has his heart set on a larger outfit. Otherwise he should have had this place by rights, him being the eldest like. But don’t worry about our Cyril. He’ll be back
on the land before long – that’s all he’s slaving for over at the works. I’m telling you, he’ll end up one of those gentlemen farmers before he’s done.’
His eyes travelled over the fields. ‘Like the rest of us Downings, it’s in the blood.’ He laughed. ‘And the rate I’m going I’ll not be far behind.’
‘Well, I think it’s lovely.’ Avril gazed round. ‘And the view, I’ve never seen anything like it.’
‘So you like country living then?’ Alan asked hopefully.
‘Oh, yes. I don’t know about Jacqueline but I’m dreading going back to London.’
‘Well, it won’t be for long. Besides, I’ve heard it’s beautiful in South Africa. Ask Grandad Roberts – he has a friend who came from there.’
‘South Africa?’ Alan looked puzzled.
‘Avril’s parents are there, waiting for her to join them after college.’
‘Oh.’ Alan’s face fell.
‘Well, I’m not sure yet. I know I ought, but it depends on the work situation here.’ She smiled. ‘After all, I might land on my feet in a top job. One never
knows.’
‘Well, let’s hope so.’ Alan’s gloom seemed to lift a little.
‘We’d better go in. You know what my mother’s like, she’ll have the best china and tablecloth out,’ said Doug.
‘And the best mince pies we’ve ever tasted,’ Jacqueline added.
‘I don’t think I can eat another thing after that dinner.’ Avril patted her stomach.
‘I can.’ Alan led the way into the kitchen in anticipation of Mrs Downing’s baking.
‘Oh, I almost forgot, you’ve been invited to tea at Moorland House,’ Jacqueline told Doug.
‘I’d better get ready then. Won’t be long.’ He hurried upstairs, and was changed and spruced up in no time at all.
‘Bring yerselves in out of the cold, an’ pull yer chairs up to the fire.’ Mrs Downing brewed the tea and cut a spiced cake, which she placed on a fine cut-glass stand with the
mince pies. ‘Eeh, but it doesn’t seem two minutes since yer mam was sitting there, and no older than you are now,’ she said.
Her husband knew without being told what his wife was thinking. Time might be a great healer, but it would never erase the hurt of a lost son, or dim the memories. It would have been nice if
this young lass and lad had belonged to their Tom. Oh well, there was plenty of time for some more grandchildren. Granddaughters were all very well but the farm needed a grandson.
Mr Downing leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, searching in his mind’s eye for a picture of his Tom, afraid that one day he might not be able to visualise the handsome young
soldier. He shook himself. He had only to look across the table at his youngest, the spitting image of his brother. Oh, why did he always have to get all melancholy at Christmas? He’d be glad
when the new year came round and they were all back to normal.
After Mary had helped Gladys clear the tea things away, and Jacqueline, unable to resist renewing her musical skills, had entertained them to a couple of pieces on the piano,
the warm cosy atmosphere and the cherry brandy seemed to have a calming effect on the assembled party.
With Jacqueline and Doug squeezed into one large leather chair and Alan and Avril sitting on the hearthrug, the scene was set for stories of the old days, when Gladys began work as a seamstress
at the age of ten at the turn of the century. It was only then that Jacqueline realised how old Grandma Roberts really was. She had always seemed so youthful somehow, and smart; and as for Grandad
Roberts, why he should have retired years ago.
Alan received a good-natured reprimand from Jacqueline when he related an incident which occurred one day when he had given Charlie Barker a lift to the dentist. Freddie Cartwright’s
mother had been making brawn from a sheep’s head, and Freddie had slipped the largest sheep’s tooth he could find into Charlie’s hand.